


Misconceptions

by beforeyouspeak, kitteninthesky12



Category: The Devil Wears Prada (2006)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-05
Updated: 2015-04-08
Packaged: 2018-03-21 10:40:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3689172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beforeyouspeak/pseuds/beforeyouspeak, https://archiveofourown.org/users/kitteninthesky12/pseuds/kitteninthesky12
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Emotions (both having and understanding) are a tricky thing. Surely Miranda and Andrea would never have any emotional misconceptions, right?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Flirtatious

**Author's Note:**

> A huge thank you to the Menzosarres for organizing Mirandy week. While I haven't been writing much lately, this was just too fun to pass up. Chapters will range from entirely innocent... to not. Thank you to kitteninthesky12 for both cowriting parts and betaing the rest. Any errors that remain are mine.

At the ripe old age of 25, Andy (known by some as Andrea) Sachs realized that she knew next to nothing about flirtation. Sure, she wasn’t the most graceful person on Earth. That was a fact neither Nigel nor Emily would ever let her forget after her remarkable faux pas during her first week of employment at Runway. Not that they were wrong. She had been a walking disaster when she first started at the magazine. Outwardly she had blossomed. The designer clothes borrowed from the closet draped her like a second skin. Clogs had thankfully been traded in for stilettos. But inwardly, she was still the young woman in a lumpy sweater naively assured that she knew more than those around her.

Flirting in college had been easy. Boys, Nate included, were drawn in by her broad smile and the batting of her eyelashes. They required no cleverness to garner attention. A toothy grin and opening her eyes wide always resulted in drinks being delivered to her table if not an invitation or two.

But she just couldn’t seem to find her footing to flirt in the adult world. Naturally it did not help that she chose to fall for the most impossible person on the planet. There were few at Runway who did not experience at least a short term crush on the editor in chief. After all, Miranda Priestly was both powerful and beautiful. But to Andy’s equal joy and dismay, no one (including several ex-husbands) seemed to have the personal commitment to romantic notions towards the notorious woman that she felt.  Emily had sworn up and down that the feelings would fade in time, but 2 years in, it was beginning to seem unlikely. Nate was long gone and Andy had been first assistant for well over a year. She was given more access to Miranda’s life than ever before. The editor had warmed towards her fractionally. On her best days, Andy would admit that the editor likely trusted her.

But Andy was guilty of being selfish. She wanted more. Or at the very least to know with certainty that there could be nothing more. But one could not simply walk up to Miranda Priestly and say “Do you like me? You know like like me.” Not to mention she was gutsy not suicidal. Miranda never reacted well to a surprise. It was a much better idea to slowly introduce the idea and allow the editor to become comfortable with the idea before discussing it even indirectly. The obvious solution was to flirt with the beautiful woman.

She considered (incredibly briefly) enlisting the help of her colleagues turned friends at the magazine. But after their relentless teasing, she suspected it would be best if they didn’t have any additional information to use against her. While generally it was all in good fun, if she was truly rejected by the object of her affections she wouldn’t be able to keep it together, much less endure scrutiny. And somehow telling anyone without Miranda knowing first felt like a violation of the tenuous but ever growing trust between them.

Research yielded little clarity. Googling “lesbian flirting” only told her to ask questions and lightly touch. While that sounded divine, it was also clearly suicidal. Deciding that a more covert approach was her best bet, Andy decide to start by observing Miranda and attempting to show her warmth. It only took about 30 minutes to realize that her midwestern rearing caused her to act with a kindness not culturally appropriate in New York City. She regularly smiled at those around her, went out of her way to make others comfortable, and randomly touched those she was close to. In her estimation this left little room to differentiate how she behaved towards Miranda. Really she should have known wooing a dragon wouldn’t be easy.

It was no longer rare for Andy to have time alone with Miranda, not that this fact reduced her stress level over it. Depending on how well the day went, the editor had begun to engage her in conversation about the magazine. Surprisingly, Miranda even acted as though she cared what Andy thought. And so she promised herself that the next time an opportunity presented itself, she would take it.

It was her luck that less than 3 hours after the command of, “Coat. Bag,” was flung at the second assistant (who was still being called Emily). Followed by an “Andrea, with me.”

Usually Andy would have suppressed the resulting smile at hearing her name said in the way only Miranda could, but on the advice of obviously informed anonymous people on the internet she openly grinned at her boss. If the older woman saw the look, she did nothing to indicate she had, proceeding directly into the elevator. Andy scrambled after her attempting to secure her own coat and bag before stepping into the small space with the most alluring person she’d ever met. She spent the seemingly interminable time between Runway and the lobby of the Elias-Clarke building wondering how a single person could be so bad at flirting. She could only hope that the next several hours would pass quickly so that she could once again be alone with Miranda

However, once they returned to the office and she was alone with Miranda she completely botched her opportunity to flirt. She was too busy over thinking how best to go about flirting that she ended up mostly just stuttering a lot and avoiding eye contact, she was so flustered she even knocked over a glass of pellegrino, luckily not on to anything too important. It was so bad that Miranda even asked if she was feeling alright. Miranda never asked if anyone was feeling alright.

After that Andy decided to stick to just being herself and trying to simply let her feelings show a bit more than usual. She allowed herself to express the happiness she felt when Miranda complimented or praised her, or even just acknowledged her. She let her sadness show when Miranda expressed disappointment. And she touched Miranda at every available opportunity. Standing a bit too close in elevators she allowed their hands to brush; leaning in and touching her arm whenever she conveyed any form of information, hoping her voice sounded as husky as it felt; complimenting Miranda on anything she could think of and hoping she wasn’t sounding too cheesy or repetitive. She also took extra care with her makeup and wardrobe. She had learned a lot during her time at Runway but now she was paying specific attention to what looks Miranda seem to favour on her. To her astonishment Miranda had given some of her more…. Revealing outfits a sharp nod, after the editor’s eyes had widened slightly at the sight, though Andy just attributed that to surprise at her bolder clothing choices. The desperate assistant even tried just staring longingly at Miranda when she wasn’t looking and praying she would just take the fucking hint already.

Several weeks later, Andy was nearly at the end of her rope. She had tried practically everything she found that was supposed to attract another woman. It wasn’t that Miranda had outwardly rejected her. That would have been something at least. The absolute lack of reaction to anything Andy did only solidified that she should most certainly keep the day job. She was in no way prepared to be a professional flirt. Andy had one last idea and she knew it was a long shot.

It had become routine that every evening when she delivered the book, Miranda would call out for her. Together they would sit and at least begin reviewing the contents. Some nights the editor would send Andy home early if she looked overly fatigued. It was done with less venom than the assistant was used to within the walls of Runway. Upon occasion, Miranda would even ask Andy’s opinion. Of course not anything visual, but she seemed to think Andy might have interesting content or editorial idea. At first the request had mostly created anxiety and panic for Andy. So she had come up with a plan. She kept a running list of ideas in the back of her ever present notebook. She would never again be caught off guard when input was requested. Miranda seemed to think that she had particular insight into the lifestyle features.

Per Andy’s estimations this was her big opportunity to figure out what Miranda considered to be flirting. After all, didn’t every magazine need to do a feature on how to flirt at one time or another. And surely they could make it about fashion. Maybe one needs to wear certain clothes while flirting? Even in her head, she knew it was a weak idea, but things were getting to a critical level. She could scarcely focus around the woman. And frankly she was unsure how much longer she could keep Miranda in the dark about her level of distraction.  

It had been a tremendously long day which only made the walk up the townhouse steps seem more ominous. The nagging in her gut suggested that there was no way she would be walking out the door without some major life change. Attempting to keep her breathing under control, she wrestled the dry cleaning into the appropriate closet. As she quietly clicked the latch closed, the familiar deadly whisper.

“Andrea.”

Unlike most evenings, the voice came from up stairs. Andy had been invited up a small handful of times since the Harry Potter incident. The thought alone of that night made her shudder.

“There you are, Andrea. I don’t know why you insist on making me yell for you after all of this time,” Miranda drawled as her assistant reached the top of the stairs.

Andy immediately placed the book into her outstretched hand. A raise eyebrow had her quickly sitting on the nearest couch and paying rapt attention. Without introduction Miranda began her verbal tirade against the state of her current mock up. Andy didn’t attempt to keep up with the actual words. She let the sound of the familiar but oh so attractive voice wash over her while watching the miniscule but lightning fast emotions on the patrician features.

“There is something missing,” Miranda said in her annoyed sing-song way.

“What… but the print department,” Andy stumbled over her words unprepared to be drawn into conversation.

“No, Andrea. That is not what I meant.” Miranda rolled her eyes dramatically. “The print department did not leave out anything. Simply that there is something that is missing. Human interest, perhaps? Do you have that little notebook with you?” Her comments lacked the usual bite and sounded almost teasing.

Andy didn’t need the notebook to remember what she was going to say, but pulled it out. After all, Miranda mentioned it specifically. She tried to calm her shaking hands with little success.

“Well,” Miranda questioned with simmering impatience.

“Flirting,” Andy blurted out as gracelessly as she had ever spoken in her life.

Miranda’s expression immediately cooled and she leaned back as though contemplating her next move. After a significant pause she asked, “Is that why?”

“Why what,” Andy asked feeling as though she was walking solidly into a trap.

“Why you’ve been… flaunting yourself in front of me?”

“I’ve been what?” Andy knew that she sounded like she really had smacked her little head on the pavement.

“My god,” Miranda breathed out, the corners of her lips curling slightly. “You really have no idea, do you?”

“I… I…” Andy had no reference for how Miranda was behaving and even less clue how to respond. “Is it not a good idea,” she asked lamely.

The editor snorted. “No, you silly girl. It is most certainly not an appropriate idea for Runway perhaps another magazine, but not mine.”

Andy’s face fell. While Miranda hadn’t rejected her, any sort of rebuff from the object of her affections hurt more than she could say.

“But I find I am very curious,” the editor continued, “that someone so adept at flirting would behave as though they needed me to publish an article instructing on how its done.”

Andy opened her mouth, but words simply would not come out. Gentle cool fingertips pressed her chin upwards closing her lips again.

“Yet, I think what is most surprising is how deeply attractive I found it,” Miranda continued without removing her hand from Andrea’s face. “I take it from the stunned silence that it was not a disingenuous attempt to obtain my undivided attention?”

At the direct question, Andy finally snapped back to life. “Disingenuous. No. Never that.”

The older woman stood suddenly, moving to sit close enough to Andy that they could have shared body heat. The proximity stole Andy’s breath as it always did.

“I didn’t think you noticed.” Andy hated that she sounded small and defeated.

“I would have had to been made of stone to not notice. Honestly, Andrea. However….”

Before Miranda could finish what was certain to be a disappointing sentence, Andy lunged forward to claim a kiss she long dreamed about. She would have breathed a sigh of relief when the older woman added her effort, but that would have required detaching her lips. It simply didn’t seem worth it. 


	2. Jealous

While Andy might not have known flirtation, she was well acquainted with jealousy. Afterall, being the youngest of 4 children taught this emotion well. She was the baby, but seemed to constantly want anything and everything that her siblings had. While she had largely outgrown the stage where she followed older people around wanting to have the things they had, she had never in her 25 years been jealous over a person. Things, certainly. Privileges, constantly. But she had never craved another person like this.

Andy wasn’t exactly what most people would describe as inexperienced. Like most women her age, she lost her virginity in high school in the back of a car to a guy she liked enough. It was to say the very least underwhelming. She didn’t think much of it at the time, chalking up romanticism to a fantasy created by the media and romcoms. Andy was cynical enough to believe that others likely felt the same way, but didn’t want to talk about it any more than she did. So she kept dating. Without giving it much thought, she turned into a serial monogamist. She never kept any of the boys long that she dated.

Until Nate. That relationship lasted a record 2.5 years, ending only when Andy chose to go to Paris at her bosses demand. If Andy was being honest, the relationship had been over for a year. She lost interest the day she had stepped into Runway and met Miranda Priestly. The woman was magnetic in a way that she had never experienced in her life. But she wasn’t jealous then, only intrigued. Watching the woman as she navigated her world, commanding it to do as she wished was the most arousing thing she had ever witnessed. The environment at Runway was a pressure cooker, which only seemed to make Andy want to work harder. Over time she mastered the intricacies of the job, making time and space for fixation Miranda herself.

Andy hadn’t meant to fall in love with her. She really hadn’t, because soon after she realized that she became incredibly jealous of innocuous things. For example, she suddenly had an aversion to coats. The way any coat Miranda wore hugged her was positively sinful. It didn’t take much for Andy to admit to herself (and Emily) that she was fiercely jealous of the fabric wrapped so warmly around her shoulders. She went so far as to regularly refuse to wear them, until Miranda intervened with a sharp comment.

This, of course, only deflected her jealousy toward other inanimate objects much to Emily and Nigel’s amusement. They made a point of tracking what object was drawing her ire week by week. It was the “week of the spoon,” when Miranda started to notice. The editor was absent mindedly stirring her tea while sitting at her desk. She took the spoon sucking it clean and running her tongue over the contours. At that exact moment, Andy was bringing her the proofs she had requested. When Andy caught site of the clever tongue of her very favorite editor, she flushed dark red with jealousy.

A week later, Andy started to fail (or not) at flirting and within a few months Miranda was her’s (just as she was Miranda’s). That was when her true lesson in jealousy began. She had not considered how she would feel having a lover who was the center of everyone’s attention. They had agreed to take their relationship slowly at first, especially when it came to the public. So the first large event they still attended as boss and assistant. Andy was forced to walk two steps behind the beautiful woman watching the world fawn over the editor. While in public, Andy kept her cool. Well, perhaps she did look like a hyper vigilant assistant, but at least she wasn’t grabbing Miranda’s ass in public or anything. Nor did she clobber the impertinent millionaire who acted very familiar with the woman she loved.

It was an entirely different story the moment after they returned to the townhouse. As the heavy front door closed behind her, Andy was immediately in Miranda's personal space.

"What is it, Andrea? Did you not like the way they were all looking at me?"

Miranda couldn’t help prodding her very attractive paramour. Being backed against the wall in her own foyer was exactly what she was looking for, even if Andrea had not yet spoken. Not being able to resist the urge, she continued, “I’ve not seen you so… envious since you watched me with that spoon.”

Andy launched at her, latching her mouth to a particularly sensitive spot on Miranda’s neck. She nipped a bit harder than normal in retribution. “You knew?”

“Of course I knew, darling. When do I ever not know,” Miranda purred pushing her chest out and offering more of her neck.

“Of course,” Andy echoed running her hands over the familiar curves of her lover. Her voice turned much firmer as she hissed, “I don’t like that they think you belong to them. Any of them.”

“And are you saying I am not their’s?” Miranda flirted away from the more serious conversation she knew would have to come. They would not be able to keep her relationship away from the public forever. But this mood of Andrea’s was beyond intriguing and it would be a tremendous waste to not capitalize on it.

“Oh no, Miranda. You are certainly not their’s. Perhaps they may have some claim to your professional persona, but not you. You are mine.” During her brief, but poignant speech she had been sinking to her knees. “No one, save me, is allowed to do this.”

Andy pushed the long skirt of Miranda’s dress up to her waist. She was grateful that the older woman hadn’t bothered with elaborate lingerie tonight. The simple black panties were easily removed, giving her access to what she wanted. Her lover balanced herself against the wall by placing her hands on Andy’s shoulders. Andy looked up at the beautiful woman while she removed the perilous high heels from Miranda’s feet. There was something preciously vulnerable about the editor without her shoes on, not to mention practical as Andy intended to wrap one of those legs around her shoulder. The older woman squeaked indignantly when her left foot was lifted, but happily opened her legs canting her hips towards Andrea’s face.

“No one gets to see you like this, Miranda.” Andy was gratified when the silver head rested back against the wall. She delighted in fingers sinking into her hair as she ran her tongue gently over Miranda’s center. “Just me,” she breathed against the heated wet skin.

"Yes, Andrea. Only you," the older woman moaned through heaving breaths. She gasped at the reward of two fingers inside of her at her answer. The woman below her truly was a goddess. Not only did she look lovely in everything Miranda chose for her, but the sweet possessiveness made her feel more loved than anyone else ever had.

“Miranda,” Andy said not slowing her hand. “Miranda, look at me.” When blue unfocused eyes met her own, she continued. “I was jealous. I’ve been jealous since the day I’ve met you.”

“I doubt that. I suspect it was a bit longer than that,” the older woman could not help sassing.

Andy answered with a particularly hard thrust. “Perhaps, but still I don’t think you mind.” She added her other hand to gently circle her lover’s clit.

Miranda wanted to answer. She really did, but the the contracting of what felt like every muscle in her body stole her breath. She most definitely did not mind.


	3. Vulnerable

There was little that made a fully grown human feel more vulnerable than a newborn. It was not a feeling that Miranda Priestly had missed. Not that she regretted her beautiful twin daughters, nor her new son born to her assistant turned paramour turned wife. Quite the contrary. they were without hesitation her greatest accomplishments to date. It seemed that in the intervening years between her daughters’ and son’s infancy she had forgotten how helpless one could feel. The thought of losing any of,them was entirely unconscionable.

The feverish screaming baby in her arms represented everything that she couldn’t control in this world. An entire industry, perhaps two, would happily prostrate themselves at her Prada pumps at the slightest hint of her displeasure. But the precious little boy, who she loved more than life itself, could care less how much influence she had over the world. And as it was 2:17 am, she would give anything in her considerable power to provide him some sort of comfort. She had done already more than was reasonable. She called the pediatrician in the middle of the night for a mild fever. He was understanding and kind, but firmly told her to keep the baby hydrated, diaper changed and as soothed as possible.

Andrea was beyond tired. For the last month she had been struggling to breastfeed. It was exhausting both physically and emotionally. So with whispers of adoration and love, Miranda sent her to bed. Having not birthed him, she often felt like she had a great deal to make up for. It didn’t help that she had returned to work two weeks after his birth. She was working less hours than she once had, but its wasn’t enough to truly spell Andrea. Her sweet, but extremely stubborn, wife consistently refused hired assistance. Perhaps she could accidentally reassign one of her assistants to the townhouse for a couple of days. Neither of the Emilys, who probably had real names, would dare object. To the contrary, they would likely be happy to get away from a sleep deprived Miranda.  Clearly she also needed to give more money to medical research for illness in children. Surely scientists were smart enough to be able to eliminate such an obnoxious occurrence in newborns. It was clear that they hadn’t tried hard enough yet.

Trying yet again to find something that would make the baby in her arms calm, she stood and moved to the full sized bed in the nursery. While its existence in the opinion of some might ruin the decor, having an extra surface to lay down on was priceless in moments like this. Miranda was not above admitting that she was in desperate need of a horizontal surface.

"Shh, don't cry, little one. Mommy loves you more than you could know," she cooed while attempting to rearrange the covers one handed. After a less than graceful mounting of the bed, she settled them snuggly into the covers. The baby fussed slightly less, giving Miranda hope that there might be peace before 3 am after all. She hummed a few bars over and over of  long forgotten song letting her eyes drift shut.

The bed compressing behind her drew her partially out of sleep. Her son still slept happily curled up in her arms. He was peaceful for the first time in what felt like days. The warm body now pressed fully against her back was the greatest balm to her soul.

"Thank God he is finally out," Andrea whispered against her neck placing a soft kiss on the warm skin.

Miranda hummed in response, too tired for language and unwilling to jinx it. She wanted to chastise Andrea for coming and checking on them when She was meant to be resting. But she couldn't do it. The body molded around her back felt amazing. She didn't realize how much she missed her wife during the pregnancy. While the younger woman had been physically present, it was different. This felt almost back to normal.

"I love the way you look with him," Andrea continue whispering while running gentle fingertips through snowy locks.

Miranda could tell without turning to look that her recently postpartum lover was on the verge of tears.

"I love you and our family, Andrea." she said the words with very bit of whispered finality that such a quiet tone could convey.

Somehow, Andrea's presence and the ability to think without the ever present screaming gave her the perspective she needed. Miranda Priestly would never like vulnerability. But some things we're simply worth the cost.


	4. Passionate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should have mentioned before now that these chapters are loosely connected and not necessarily in chronological order.

Passion and being passionate were concepts with which Miranda was well acquainted, or so she thought. After all, who knew more about wrapping themselves in custom Valentino and turning every head in the room in spite of sexual identity. Not to mention how much of her livelihood depended on knowing what others would perceive as worthy of being passionate about. Of course in the non-romantic sense, she had always been passionate about the aesthetically beautiful. She was one of the lucky to be able to turn her primary passion into a glorious career.

And she did love her career. Throughout her 20s and 30s (well and her 40s, though she was remiss to admit her age) she truly believed that fashion and Runway would her only real passions. She loved her daughters, but even their light paled in comparison to her ambition much to her embarrassment. Her line of mediocre spouses hadn’t helped the atmosphere at home, making work her sanctuary. To atone for her lack of passion, she paid handsome sums to people who were passionate about the care of Caroline and Cassidy.

She blamed her deficiency in this arena on her family’s dysfunction while growing up. Suffice it to say that she did not have any idea how to be a part of a loving happy family. Until her early 50s, when one Andrea Sachs stumbled her way into the Priestly family. While the young woman had quite a bit to learn about fashion when she walked through the magazine doors, she needed no lessons on how to love. For nearly two years Miranda attempted to actively ignore this fact, as she had no personal reference for how to react to such kind selflessness.

However, once she allowed herself to give into her assistant’s adorable flirting, she sealed her own fate. Andrea was only capable of all encompassing, compassionate, passionate love. It was quickly evident that the young woman had won her over entirely. There was not a wall in her repertoire she could throw up that Andrea could not scale. The frustratingly wonderful creature took her myriad of baggage in stride with little more than a gentle smile.

And sneakily without Miranda noticing, Andrea had invented something entirely different for her to be passionate about. One evening she came home to the happy voices of her lover and daughters bouncing off of the kitchen walls. She walked quietly down the hall, wanting to see them before they were alerted to her presence. Their backs were towards her and all 3 were bent over the counter reading something aloud with great care.

“But Andy,” Caroline said with deep concern, “how will we be able to tell when the egg whites are stiff peaks? What does that even mean?”

“Yea, and what does soft butter looks like?” Cassidy echoed the anxiety of her twin.

“We’ll know,” Andrea answered with certainty.

“Have you ever made these brownies before,” Caroline asked accusingly drawing a long laugh from Miranda’s lover.

“Not these particular ones, but thats why we have a recipe. It will be fine, I promise.”

“And,” Miranda said finally done eavesdropping, “you could always ask the eldest member of the household. I have both beaten eggs and softened butter in my lifetime.”

“Mom! You’re home,” the twins shouted in joint joy before running over to her. In tandem they threw their arms around her. Andrea followed a few steps away watching the scene with clear affection on her face. She stopped short of joining them until a twin arm reached out and dragged her forward into the family hug. Miranda had to fight back tears at open acceptance and offering of affection from her 3 girls.

As a result cooking had become the passion of the Priestly family. It was the first place they had found their common ground and it became a centerpiece of their life. The movie _Julie and Julia_ was at least partially to blame. Not long after the egg and butter incident, they watched the film together. The girls were so inspired by their very limited cooking experience and the film, they insisted that the Priestly household adopted a similar hobby. Miranda was incredibly grateful that Andrea had been able to talk the girls out of the Julia Child’s book. It was a monster, and Miranda didn’t like nearly as much French food as the world liked to believe.

Instead the embarked on cooking every recipe in _Giada’s Family Dinners_ by Giada De Laurentiis.  Miranda was hesitant at first, but it took less than a week for her to be convinced. And by one month in, her entire calendar revolved around her family cooking. She had no latent passion for culinary activities, but she found that she had very strong emotions about her girls (as she now thought of them) enjoying each other so thoroughly.

Chicken Carbonara, Roasted Red Snapper with Parsley Vinaigrette, and Whole Wheat Spaghetti with Swiss Chard and Pecorino Cheese became the cement that glued them together as a unit. Miranda learned all about the latest news and gossip at Dalton over pasta making. She laughed when the twins talked Andrea into telling embarrassing stories on herself while prepping and stuffing their own Thanksgiving turkey.

When they reached the end of the book, Miranda happily admitted that this was her one true passion. She watched her girls’ lively discussion about what book to tackle next, while happily snuggling her new son. This precious family, that she could only pray to deserve, was far more than the sum of her professional accomplishments.


End file.
